


Inevitable

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Missing Scene, Pirates, butt pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8834041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: At some point, Flint had accepted that nothing in his life would ever be easy. But perhaps not everything needed to be a fight.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



The fight was inevitable.

At some point, Flint had accepted this, the realization that nothing in his life would ever be easy. He'd spent his life fighting, after all. Fighting to establish his reputation in Nassau, to secure the loyalty of his crew. Fighting for the _Urca_ gold, fighting against everything standing between him and establishing a strong Nassau. Even before "Captain Flint" had taken the reins - the life of James McGraw had been the same. Fighting for respect, for something more than his birthright allowed. Fighting to be recognized by his peers. Fighting for... fighting for Thomas's ideals.

Struggle or drown. Rage or be subdued. Fight and triumph, or give in and die. Fighting had become ingrained in the core of him, in every fiber of his being.

Going to Pistols and Swords with one of the most notorious pirate captains of all time for the control of the remains of their fleet was just one more inevitability.

It wasn't going to be easy, fighting Edward Teach. Beyond his obvious advantages of physical strength and experience was a temperament that was far too resolute for Flint to take advantage of and manipulate in the heat of battle. At first he thought he'd gotten lucky with the pistols, thought that perhaps, just once, something would be easy. Comparably. Then, the mountain of his opponent shuddered and began to rise, and, as he looked to him, Flint realized why the name of this man was spoken with such awe and terror. There was no fierce rage or hatred - just a silent, hard determination.

_Blackbeard will kill you._

For a split second, the realization was almost a relief.

Then the fight rose up in him, and he caught up his sword from where it stood in the sand and lunged forth into the fray.

The tang of salt and copper filled his mouth, sweat and blood thick and sticky on his skin. The power of each clash of steel shuddered up his arm, deep into his bones. Still, Flint tightened his grip on his sword. Kill or be killed. The identity of his target was no more important than the colours on the flag of a pursued bounty. All that mattered was the outcome. Winning the prize.

He had to fight.

Fight, even as Blackbeard's sword slashed into his skin. Fight as the pain overwhelmed him. Fight, even as his strength began to drain away like the blood from his shoulder. Fight, get up, raise the sword, block the blows, even as his head spun in the bright sunshine. Get up, get up, move faster. Win. He had to win. Win or die.

The realization that it was going to be the latter was one chilled moment between heartbeats as Flint stared up at Teach looming over him, sword arching through the air for the killing blow. Then it stopped, it _was stopped_ , and someone was parrying back his death, beating Teach back across the sand.

Charles _fucking_ Vane.

Vane, attacking Teach with a single-minded ferocity until the man finally stood down.

For a moment Flint felt disappointment. Then, anger. They could have had everything if Vane had just taken his side before it had come to this. But all that had passed, and all there was left was the truth that Vane had given up everything he had with Teach to save Flint's life. He couldn't begrudge him that.

So Flint rose, wiping the blood from his mouth, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with Vane as he stared down the man who would have been his mentor.

And Teach stared back at them, more broken than Flint could have ever hoped or wanted to make him. "Take him and get the hell off my beach."

~~~

That Charles Vane had once again saved his life ought to have sat heavy in Flint's mind. Instead he found himself talking with the other man with ease as they leaned over the rail of the _Walrus_ , the night breeze off the sea light and refreshing. Joking, even. It was strange, to feel so at ease when he ought to feel antagonistic towards him, or at least the outcome of the day. Was it just Vane's allegiance, that had left him feeling that way?

There were too many things to think on when he only wanted to quiet his mind. He lit the lamp hanging over his desk in his cabin, running his fingers along the spines of his books, then taking one at random and sitting down to read. It didn't matter what, as long as it could occupy his mind, briefly take him from the world of pirates and revenge.

It took a moment to realize that Vane had entered his cabin, pulling the bar on the door into place. Flint raised an eyebrow, only to have Vane pull the book from his hands, tossing it onto the desk carelessly. Then Vane was kissing him, fingers digging into the back of Flint's skull as he straddled his lap, pressing close, tongue pushing past Flint's lips to taste him, claim him.

Flint's body responded before he could, arching up against him, yielding to the assault as a shudder of arousal ran down his spine. How long had it been since he'd been kissed like this, all hard edges and desperate need and sweat and musk? How long had it been since there'd been someone he could kiss like this?

Rational thought kicked in, and he yanked back, sputtering. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Vane stared at him unblinking, eyes glittering darkly in the dim light from the lamp. For a moment Flint could see part of Teach in him - that calm resolution. But, behind that, smoldered an unmistakable desire, and Flint felt a shiver run through him. Straight to his cock.

"You asked me what kind of a man I was." The regular growl of Vane's voice was quieter, but somehow stronger. Flint's cock took note of that, too. "I thought I should give you an answer."

Somehow, Flint's hands had come to rest on his hips, though he couldn't be sure if he meant to push him away or pull him closer. His fingers tightened in the fabric of Vane’s breeches. "And what kind of a man is that?"

"One who knows that you have to be willing to take what you want."

What Charles Vane was suggesting was undoubtedly a terrible idea. Every rational part of his mind knew that, screamed that. "Get the hell out of my cabin."

Vane shifted on his lap, but it was only to bring their hips together, lips widening in a smirk as he rolled his hips against him. "I saved your life today, Flint. I think you owe me an audience."

Flint tried to glare back at him, tried to ignore the agonizing grind of Vane's hips against his own, or the fact that his hands had moved to cup Vane's ass and pull him closer. "And this is how you intend me to repay you, then?"

A low laugh rasped from Vane's throat. "If that's what helps you sleep at night." Then he claimed Flint's mouth again, and Flint could do nothing but comply, rocking up against the press of Vane's body, his disobedient cock straining at the front of his breeches. Kissing Charles Vane was hot and desperate and far, far better than he wanted to admit, hands tugging at clothes, laces, each other. At some point Vane stood long enough to kick off his breeches, and then he was back on Flint's lap, wrapping his hands around both their cocks as he claimed Flint's bottom lip, sucking and biting. The rocking of his hips made the underside of his cock slide against Flint's, his grip firm and determined, and for a moment Flint could only see stars. "Fuck - !"

Vane nipped again at his bottom lip before going for his ear, licking hotly up the side of his neck before biting the tender skin under his lobe. "Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Fucking me?"

"Don't presume to know anything about me," Flint muttered, sucking in a sharp breath as Vane's teeth bit harder into the crook of his neck. His hips jerked up, unbidden, into the circle of Vane's fingers. Vane, the little bastard, laughed.

"You want me to fuck you, then?" The rasp of those words on his lips was positively obscene. "Would be a glorious thing, to make the great and fearsome Captain Flint come undone on my cock." He pressed his thumb against the head of Flint's cock, rubbing through the slick of arousal, licking along the outside of his ear. "Or maybe you're thinking about fucking me, hm? Sealing our arrangement with your cock up my ass?"

Jesus fuck, and wasn't that one hell of a thing to picture? "Don't put words in my mouth."

He half expected more teasing. Instead Vane pulled back, gaze hard and serious. "You know that you don't have to turn everything into a fight, don't you?"

Did Flint look as stricken as those words made him feel? Regardless, Vane's expression softened, and his kiss softened, claiming Flint's mouth again and again until all he could do was respond, running a hand up Vane's back to tangle in his hair to hold him in place and assuage his need to devour that infuriating mouth.

_Don't fight this,_ he thought, and finally felt the turmoil inside him still. He moved his free hand to join Vane's, stroking and teasing both their cocks, feeling an unexpected rush of pleasure at the way it made Vane moan into his mouth. His kisses grew warmer, hungrier, until Flint felt like he could barely breathe, dizzy through kisses that he couldn't bring himself to stop, as he arched up into the rock of Vane's hips.

"There we go," Vane murmured, approval thrumming warmly through him. He shifted on Flint's lap, settling down to let the length of Flint's cock grind along the crease of his ass, reaching back to hold him in place. Then he began to move again slowly, each roll of his hips making Flint's cock slide against his palm, slide over his hole.

He looked positively lewd, Flint couldn't help but think, his thighs bare on his lap, cock flushed and hard as it protruded from under the hem of his shirt. His hands found Vane's hips again, thumbs digging into his hipbones as he pulled him down into the rock of his hips. "Jesus Christ...." 

Vane's eyes closed briefly in pleasure. "I have half a mind to ride you hard and put you away wet."

_Jesus._ Flint bit back the curse, though his hips stuttered up against him, unbidden. "I don't have anything to ease the way."

Vane's only response was another kiss, hard and breathless, a grunt low in his throat. Then he pulled back, standing, and reached up to lift the glass from the oil lamp, blowing out the flame and sending the room into darkness.

Then there was nothing but blackness, and Vane's fingers on his cock, slick with oil that was almost too warm to bear. Then, there was nothing but Vane's mouth on his, hot breath and a raspy groan of pleasure. Then, there was Charles Vane sinking back down onto his lap, sinking onto his cock, hot and tight and demanding.

He was pulling Vane to him before he could stop himself, fingers digging into skin and muscle. A needy, rather embarrassing noise escaped his throat, and he bit down at Vane's shoulder to muffle it, grinding up into that tight, exquisite heat.

Vane laughed, the little bastard, but sounded distinctly pleased, a shudder running through him as Flint's teeth closed over the crook of his neck. "Yes.... the ferocious Captain Flint."

_Fuck you_ , Flint wanted to say. But Vane had no knowledge of his past, knew nothing beyond this persona he had built. Flint, the fighter, the killer. But perhaps for a few moments he could be neither Flint nor James McGraw. For a few moments the only fight could be this quest for pleasure; a fight that he could undoubtedly win.

Blindly he reached for Vane's head, pulling his mouth back to his. He shifted underneath him, bracing and rocking up into him. And with a snarl, Vane moved to meet him, grinding down hard, fucking himself with as much ferocity as Flint felt. Flint didn't care now that he was gasping out his pleasure. It was too good to care, fucking up into him, hips smacking against Vane's ass as they came together. His cries were nothing compared to the rough, choked cries that his thrusts pushed from Vane's lips - and fuck, was that a whimper? Flint twisted his head to bite at Vane’s neck again, jerking up into him, and felt _Charles fucking Vane_ come undone on his cock, clenching around him with a cry, seed landing warm and slick on Flint's chest.

The sense of triumph was a powerful aphrodisiac, as stimulating as the bliss of fucking Vane's ass, and Flint chased it, jerking up into him again and again. Then he was coming, crying out into the darkness, spilling inside Vane as pleasure burned through his veins like victory.

Vane's lips pressed to his jaw, breath in hot gasps. "That was a very pleasant start."

"A start?"

"To repaying me." Thick with pleasure, Vane's voice was little more than a purr. "Unless that's all you can handle."

Flint dug his fingers into those infuriating hips, pulling Vane against him. "I'm not that diminished."

Vane chuckled again, clenching down around his softening cock. "Then I suppose I shall have to stay a while longer so that you can prove it."

That, Flint decided, was an inevitability he could live with. "I suppose you will."

~~~


End file.
